


A Trifle Thrown

by AnnaVarg



Series: The Phoenix and the Griffon [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaVarg/pseuds/AnnaVarg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the quest Best Served Cold. What does it take to make Quinn Hawke lose his temper?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trifle Thrown

Quinn's hands itched. The last vestiges of a spell tickled his palms where they touched his staff. His head felt light, rather like it was filled with frozen trifle - layers upon layers of spongy, chilling nothing. When his eyes focused again, he found himself staring at an unconscious templar, who was half-sitting against a boulder of rock at an awkward angle. The templar had been about to strike Anders when his back was turned. Quinn had pulled him away, armour and all, whisked him about and then left him there. His staff was still firmly planted on the ground, the epicentre of the Force burst. If it wasn't for the tingle of magic that lingered around him, he would've thought it had been someone else; he never recklessly unleashed his magic like that. But there was such a blinding, deafening snowstorm raging inside him...  
  
He startled back to full awareness when someone grabbed his shoulder, and the sights and sounds of the real world returned in a confusing cacophony. The templar wasn't the only one he had thrown down, or against the rocks. There were mages, too, in Circle robes. Some had Varric's bolts sticking out of them, some showed signs of Anders's - and Justice's - powers at work. Not nearly all of them were dead, to Quinn's relief. He looked around, taking in the chaotic scene. He was standing in the middle of a battlefield, unable to think straight, and his teeth were gnashing, and his hands were steady, because Force spells were never cast with shaking hands, that had been his father's very first lesson.  
  
"Quinn!" It was Anders, giving him another shake - who else would it be, first by his side? The thought should have gone straight into his heart and warmed it. Now it merely floated on the surface.  
  
Because behind Anders, there was Carver, lying on the ground, unmoving. His brother, Father's little soldier, in his shining Warden armour. Beside him knelt one of his kidnappers, the young mage who couldn't have been much older than him. Quinn was just starting to thaw, to remember that his name was Alain, and he had seemed rather sensible, had even tried to reason with his comrades, before it all descended to madness--  
  
And then Alain's blood splattered on Carver's face, chilling Quinn all over again. He walked right past Anders, his spine as straight as it could be, and brushed the boy away from Carver with an effortless wave of magic. Only his pained groan made Quinn aware of how much power he had used. Under any other circumstances, such callous use of magic would've already made him apologise profusely. This, this was _family_ , however, and that made all the difference. Alain was thrown head over heels, and when he sat up again, he held his head. Blood trickled slowly down his cut arm and stained his Circle robes.  
  
"Blood magic?" Quinn asked. Hands steady. Voice steady. "What in Maker's name are you doing, you poor fool? Kidnapping him for no reason was bad enough, but _blood magic_?"  
  
"I have to--" Alain started, and went to stand up.  
  
"No," Quinn said, decisively, he thought, and took hold of the gravity and _twisted_ it so that Alain couldn't move, the earth pulling him down. "You don't have to. Why won't any of you just listen? None of this was necessary. None!"  
  
Anders was trying to catch his attention again. "Quinn, you're--"  
  
"Step back!" Quinn exclaimed, frustration seizing his tongue. "Please," he added, because the look on Anders's face was so awfully stricken, but it didn't help. He winced with regret, but there it was now; he couldn't take the harsh words back.  
  
"I'm sorry, messere," Alain said, his voice wavering, "there's no other way. Your brother was bound with blood magic; that's the only thing that will free him."  
  
"Oh," fell out of Quinn's mouth. He felt so numb. "I see. Well. Free him, if you'd be so kind. Anders? Could you see to his hand, afterwards?"  
  
Anders stared at him still, like he had never seen him before. Quinn had experienced that before, but at least he had known what Anders had seen the last time he had experimented with transformation magic; he didn't know what Anders was seeing now, and it unnerved him.

"Of course," Anders agreed, a little belatedly, and stepped out of the way.  
  
Alain scurried back to Carver, and finished the short but macabre ritual. Seeing Carver sit up and blink his eyes open finally made joy spark inside Quinn, and he helped his brother up onto his feet while Anders worked his healing magic. Standing up in full Warden armour, Carver appeared taller than he had been when Quinn had seen him last.  
  
"Carver? Oh, Carver. I promise I'll never let anything like this happen again."  
  
He looked unharmed. Quinn was relieved beyond measure to find that at least that promise had been kept.  
  
If anything, Carver was annoyed. "You think I'll let down my guard again? I'm here on secret Warden business; what if they found out that I--"  
  
"Well, I'm not going to tell them, that's for sure. And if anyone's let down his guard, it was me, Carver, so put it right out of your mind." Quinn knew how his brother detested shows of affection, especially in public, but Varric was busy collecting his bolts and Anders with Spirit Healing, and Aveline had taken off, probably to look for survivors, so he risked it. He laid his hand on his brother's arm, between the plates of his armour, and squeezed reassuringly.  
  
Carver twitched, but didn't jerk his arm free. He looked down at his feet, dark hair falling over his eyes. "It seems I'm again in your debt... and your shadow."  
  
Quinn sighed. "I wish you wouldn't see it that way. I'm the reason why you were thrown into this mess. Of course it falls to me to get you out again."  
  
Carver went to reply, but Aveline returned, jogging, and caught everyone's attention. "Knight Captain Cullen is approaching. I saw that shady Samson fellow with him."  
  
Anders glanced at the confused and frightened renegade mages and templars who had barely started to gather together after the battle. "Maker's breath! Do we have time to--"  
  
"No," Aveline interrupted, frowning slightly because she knew what had been his first thought. "Unless they are to swim out of here. They're going to face the consequences of their actions, no matter how well-intended."  
  
Quinn bit his lip so hard it hurt. What was this petty feeling of satisfaction that rose within him? Surely he should be disappointed that the templars were coming to lock up the few who had dared rise against them. But Grace's betrayal still stung, and he needed only to glance at Carver by his side to remind him of how misguided the renegades had been. Had he not dedicated every waking moment to alleviating the plight of the mages in Kirkwall? How could they harbour such doubts about his allegiances? What had he done wrong, to deserve such distrust from the very people he was trying to help?  
  
"I must go," Carver said, ending Quinn's musings. "Before they decide they want to take me to the Knight Commander. I can't answer their questions. I'm on Warden business."  
  
Quinn thought his heart might break. "You're... leaving? Right away? You won't even... stop by the estate?"  
  
"If I was here to make social calls, I would've written you beforehand," Carver said rather haughtily, but then relented, and had the grace to look regretful. "Look, Quinn. I hate to leave you to sort out the mess, again. But my life isn't my own any more. I can't stay, even if I... wanted to."  
  
They clasped hands, and Quinn quelled the urge to pull his brother into a tight hug. He often caught himself thinking that Carver could use a good hug, or two.  
  
"Take care, brother," Carver said, voice low and sincere.  
  
"You too. Write me, would you please? I know I sent you stationery. You do have ink in Ansburg, don't you? And a spare minute every now and then?"  
  
Carver's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "The latter, not that often. But... I'll try."  
  
And with a nod, he was gone, disappearing down the path that followed the coastline. Quinn watched him leave, and leant on his staff, suddenly weary. He turned around to his favourite source of comfort.  
  
In addition to Anders, he found both Varric and Aveline looking at him as well. There was a strange wariness in their eyes, although Aveline immediately pretended to look past him at the approaching group of templars, and Varric similarly averted his gaze, chuckling to himself.

Anders made no effort to do so, and Quinn approached him. "W-what is it? What are you all looking at?"  
  
"You." Anders breathed out, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. "I don't think any of us has ever seen you so angry before."  
  
Quinn felt uncomfortable. He wasn't proud of losing his temper like that, losing his self-control. "I'm sorry. It was - They were just so--"  
  
"Infuriating?" His lover sighed, and pushed his bangs back from his forehead. "That Grace. What a tragedy. I was almost starting to like Thrask. You'll speak on Alain's behalf, won't you? The boy is already scared stiff of having to return to the Gallows. I hate to think what the templars could do to him if they find out he knows blood magic."  
  
Quinn nodded, and reached out for Anders's hand. It anchored him, and he could feel his blood run warmer. "I will. It's the least I can do. I think I... gave him a bit of a scare, and I truly didn't mean to. But it was Carver. It was family. I would've done the same if they had... if they had kidnapped you."  
  
"You gave _me_ a scare, love." Anders's hold tightened, and he gave a little smile. "Remind me to never do anything to make you lose your temper. You're a fright when you're mad. I hardly recognised you."  
  
"Um. Don't scribble on the margins of my books? Or dog-ear them. The moment you do that, you're out on your ear and I'm sleeping with Genitivi."  
  
"That's better," Anders said, and the smile reached his eyes. "That's my Quinn. Welcome back." He raised their joined hands to his mouth, and pecked Quinn's knuckles quickly, breathing warmth into his skin.  
  
The snowstorm had passed. The trifle had melted. "G-glad to be here," Quinn mumbled, tongue-tied with tenderness, and smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Dragon Age Kinkmeme.


End file.
